


The Escort

by NutheadGee



Series: Exchanging Services [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Dominant!Gabriel, Escort!Gabriel, F/M, Humour, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sarcasm, Shameless Garbage, Shameless Smut, Smut, The thirst is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NutheadGee/pseuds/NutheadGee
Summary: It had been an exceptionally shitty week, with things getting progressively worse, both at home and at work. Your friends, in a bid to cheer you up decided to hire an escort for you. You were more than just a little sceptical it would work.Well, you were wrong, because Gabriel, the escort in question was pretty much the human reincarnation of Adonis, and it's safe he was going to be doing a lot more than "cheering you up". Not that you were complaining, really.What a time to be alive.





	The Escort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shatterdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterdreams/gifts).



> My Discord group friends are a horrible influence on me.
> 
> S/O to you too Cowboy. I can't tag you coz you don't have a goddamn account, but here, indulge yourself.
> 
> The love is real. Thank you both so much for being my friends. Y'all are so precious.

You sighed for the nth time this night, staring up at the ceiling of your room, arms behind your head. Your pillow was still damp. And you eyes were still slightly swollen. It had been a tough week, mentally and emotionally, and, naturally, crying your eyeballs sore really hadn’t solved anything.

Well, at least you had the weekend free, including Friday, so your plan was to sit in the house and binge on all the series you needed to catch up on as you ate unhealthy take out, sugary desserts, obnoxious amounts of energy drinks and cried some more. Then Monday would roll round and you would dust yourself up and go on with your life.

You knew betrayal was a terrible thing to go through, but you never thought you’d go through it yourself, first hand. To be quite honest the events of the past week were still reeling in your mind, and you didn’t even realise you were crying until you choked back the saliva and the tears started running down the sides of your face and you had to cover your mouth to keep the sounds down so as not to bring your housemates in to comfort you. Not that you never needed the comfort, but you felt that your tears had stained far too many of their clothes this past week, not to mention it was some ungodly hour of the night. They needed to sleep.

It all started on the Sunday evening, when your cousin, visiting from your home country randomly arrived to the US, with no prior notice and expected you to go pick them up from the airport and accommodate them. She had told nobody that she was visiting, had made absolutely no plans of their own of transport, accommodation or food and when you refused at first instance, they had taken it upon themselves to call every single living relative of yours and tell them how “rude” and “unfair” you were being.

After multiple phone calls texts and generally being yelled at, you decided for the sake of peace, you might as well go and pick her up, but you vowed to make her visit as miserable as you possibly could. Your roommates at the time were understandable, but you agreed that she could only stay with you for two days as she got her shit together and left. You also agreed that she would sleep on the couch, as there was nowhere else she could sleep. She grumbled the whole way from the airport to your apartment when you told her these conditions, but she promptly shut the fuck up when you told her she could always leave and go seek her own accommodation.

The two days she was with you was nothing short of a disaster. You informed her that you had to go to work, because contrary to what she believed in you actually had to earn you money the conventional way as anybody else in a capitalist state. You always came back home to the house being a mess: dirty dishes in the sink, the bathroom a mess, crumbs left all over kitchen and sitting room, the cooker an oily mess, condiments spilt all over the place and just a general feel of untidiness. Despite the fact that you were tired from work and from sitting in Los Angeles traffic and just wanting to come home and breathe, you were forced to clean up after her before making your own dinner. You always collapsed into bed afterwards.

On the day you were supposed to kick her out (and you weren’t above recognising how petty you were because you never hid how you relished in it) you thought your troubles were over and you could probably get the relaxation you deserved but apparently you had royally pissed off multiple spirits of your ancestral lands and life started coming at you really, really fast.

It had been a difficult week at work, and you were struggling to stay on top of things, as a client had given you misinformation and by the time you realised you were quite far into the necessary processes to ensure you got their job done, so you had undo everything, correct the mistake and try and continue from where you left off, but you still had the same deadline, so everyone working on the project had to put in double the effort to do double the work to make up for wasted time, and it was very mentally and emotionally exhausting. Your cousin being a menace at home wasn’t helping things, so when you were falsely accused of taking kickbacks from a former client and threatened to be fired, which, would in turn lead to you losing your work visa, it was going to be a trip.

Luckily, your boss already knew the idiot that was lying about you was, in fact, lying about you, because aforementioned idiot couldn’t be bothered to put in correct time stamps that you were apparently risking your job therefore your visa therefore your entire future because your boss was able to effectively say that the times you were allegedly receiving these kickbacks you were actually consulting with her on the current projects you were working on. You had honestly never seen human resources drop a case so quickly and removing it from their systems, including a letter of apology for any and all inconvenience and distress caused and given my whole Friday off, paid for full hours.

It wasn’t even twenty hours later, when, upon your request, you got information on who it was that framed. It was one of you housemates, who was also your colleague at work that framed you (they had promptly earned themselves an unpaid suspension for two weeks, and considering how expensive living in LA was, it was going to be a difficult three weeks for them. You would have felt sorry for him, but he almost made you get kicked out of the country, so you slightly relished in their suffering. It was extremely hurtful too, because this was someone you had come to consider a friend, someone you thought you could build a long-term friendship with, to only come and find out that he despised you for no apparent reason and wanted to actually see you fail. When you got home and you confronted him about it, he promptly walked away, going into his room and locking himself in there, completely refusing to talk or otherwise communicate with you. It was then that the betrayal hit you, and you were  _ hurt. _

Your other housemates were there, having witnessed the entire conversation, or lack thereof. Aforementioned roommate’s girlfriend arrived, glaring at you and marching right into his room, before coming back out and screeching a variety of insults at you and claiming you took her boyfriend’s rightful promotion and that maybe if you could go back to your own poor country nobody would be able to tolerate my shit. Everybody else was pretty surprised at this behaviour, since this woman was never one to be discriminatory. Discrimination generally never bothered you, but you really didn’t have the mental or emotional strength to deal with it on this day, and you finally broke down and just cried, this grief being a culmination of everything that had happened throughout the week. They were very supportive, just holding you and helping you out with anything that you requested of them. They were even considerate enough to do your chores for you, and you couldn’t stop being thankful for that. They are the ones that eventually convinced you to eat dinner and go to sleep, which you had managed to do, but eventually, in the middle of the night, here you were, wide awake and thinking of how you’d had what could only be described as the shittiest week you had had in the recent past.

You breathed out again, turning to your side and closing your eyes, hoping you’d go back to sleep. At least you didn’t have work the next day, so for the first time in a really long time you could actually sleep in.

…

You thought you heard something that sounded like your phone ringing. Did you change your ringtone?

In your bleary and sleepy state you focused, not quite sure whether you were very much awake, before your phone started buzzing uncontrollably on your bedside. You opened your eyes, blinking multiple times, before tapping all over the table, looking for your phone. You stared at the screen, significantly brighter than you’d have liked to see “Alicia” written in white, bright LED letters. What was up now?

“Hello?” You voice was rough.

“Please don’t tell me you were still asleep. It’s eleven thirty,” she said, sounding extremely amused.

“It’s my day off and I’m miserable, Leave me alone,” you grumbled in response, sitting upright and looking at your watch. She was right, it was about eleven thirty in the morning. Huh, when you said you wanted to sleep in you honestly didn’t expect to sleep in this late into the morning. “What’s up?”

“Well, don’t we have news for you,” she said, uncharacteristically chipper. You felt your heartbeat increase. She had that mischievous thing going on in her voice, meaning she and everyone else in the house that was involved was most definitely up to no good. You were particularly sure of this because  they never involved you in this particular adventure, something which always happened when you were all about to be cheeky.

“Good news or bad news?” You were honestly morbidly curious.

“Fantastic news. You think I’d call you to tell you shit news when you’ve probably had the shittiest week thus far in the year?”

She did have a point there.

“What’s up?”

“We got you an escort.”

You blinked.

“He’s sexy as all hell, and he’s definitely your type. He’s gonna take you to dinner tomorrow and then fuck you stupid. God knows you deserve it.”

Your mind was still trying to process the first statement. Your mouth was open, with the intent to form coherent sound, what generally people called ‘words’, but for some reason you were utterly and completely incapable of this very simple act.

“Escort?” You honestly sounded so dumb. It was the only thing that could come out of your mouth at the time.

“I’ll give you more details when I get home. I’m getting home earlier today, so for now just chill.”

“No Alicia, wai-”

The line went dead. The bitch had hang up on you. 

Wait even was going on in this household?

…

You made sure to wait - rather impatiently - for Alicia to get back from work when she said she would, and the second she walked into the house you made sure to level a pretty vicious glare at her, making her smile and laugh a little awkwardly.

“You have a lot of talking to do, homie,” you pointed out, leading her to the sitting room because she did. “The way you hang up on me too, do you know just how fucking rude that was?”

She laughed, the sound just as bright and genuine as it always was, which made you smile. Gosh you really loved this young woman, your very first friend that you made when you moved to this country.

“Sorry. I was at work and my boss turned up. I really didn’t want him to listen to me telling you how I really want you to be happy and because I’m a true friend I hired you an escort to raw you for two hours.”

This was one of the many times you had come to thoroughly thank black Jesus for your skin colour because your were blushing so hard you could feel the heat emanating from your face. If you were any lighter you’d be looking like a ketchup bottle.

“Just tell me about this escort of yours,” you mumbled distracting yourself with sipping juice.

You didn’t like that smirk on her face. “His name is Gabriel. He’s coming for you tomorrow at six, taking you to dinner at a hotel before railing you in one of the rooms there. He’s taking you a nice place, don’t worry. I sent you a link in your twitter DMs of like his profile and shit. I think you should go look at it. I also told him you like football and you follow the UEFA Champion’s League like a religion, and he seemed to be amused at that, so at least you have something to talk about before he ploughs you into numbness. What team did you say you supported again?”

“Manchester United,” you mentioned through clenched teeth. It hadn’t been a great season.

“That’s the red one? You’re always talking about Manchester being red, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least I got that right. Anyway, he told me dress code is formal, so like a suit. A really formal suit.”

You nodded, not really sure you had the courage to go through with this, but you really needed dick. You decided to go to your room and have a look at his profile, but when you just walked into the bedroom, you decided it would be best for Satan masquerading as your friend to join you, so you walked back to the couch and pulled her up, ignoring her surprised yelp and pulling her into your room.

“We’re gonna check out his profile together,” you muttered, ignoring how she giggled behind her hand. Demon.

“Of course. What kind of friend am I if I’m not here to support you through your trying times?”

Satan and his legion of demons was truly active within her today, it seemed. Nevertheless, you managed to log ono twitter, to see the large dot that showed you had a new message. With some slight nerves, you clicked the button, seeing the link the mighty demon, ALicia had sent you and you clicked it. It took barely seconds for the page to load, but once it did, you started feeling a lot of things, particularly in your genitals. 

The page of the website itself was very elling of the kind of agency this was. It clean and minimalistic, very sophisticated using cool shades of browns and pastels. Nothing over the top, just fresh and professional.

To the right was a picture of the escort in question, and you honestly doubted if there was a word in the English language that could give justice to how absolutely  _ stunning  _ he was. He was black, the first thing that shocked you, because you knew the kind of discrimination that existed in today’s world, and he probably had the smoothest, most flawless skin you had ever seen. You made a mental point to ask what his beauty regimen was.His beard was a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee, with streaks of grey putting some good emphasis on on his sharp jawline, piercing brown eyes staring straight at you, down onto his prominent nose and full lips that you wanted to thoroughly devour. His hair, thick and curly, was all over the place at the top of his head, but shaved on the sides and probably the back, also with streaks of grey. You questioned for a second how old he was, before you calmed down for a second because grey hair wasn’t necessarily an indication of age, just genetics. He didn’t show any other indications of age either, come to think of it, like wrinkles particularly around his eyes and his mouth, and his grey hairs gave him an air of sophistication more than anything.

In other words you were, quite literally, staring at one of the most handsome men you had ever seen in your life. You turned back to Alicia, who in a span of ten seconds had gone from Lucifer to a hero. “Do you know how old he is?” 

She smirked. “Forty. Don’t worry, there’s just ten years between you. Don’t freak out.” 

You raised an eyebrow, but decided to drop it. Her smile slowly went from mischievous to saccharine sweet. She tapped you on he shoulder gently. “You're gonna have a  _ great  _ time.”

You could hear the maniacal laughter as she walked away. Were there exorcists in LA?

…

You stared at your outfit laid on your bed, wondering if you were going overboard with it. It was basically a very formal suit, and Alicia said Gabriel had informed her that the dress code for this date (could it be considered a date? Or perhaps more a one night stand?) was formal. You were nervous as all hell, and you perhaps thought that your nerves were getting in the way of you rational thinking, so you called in Alicia to ask for her opinion.

“Damn,” she murmured when she saw your clothes. “I know he said formal but I really didn’t think you’d go this all out.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay how anxious you actually were. “Just sticking to the dress code.”

She looked down at your shoes. “Those boots amazing. How long is the heel?”

“Six inches.”

She whistled. “I’ve never seen you in stilettos before. Why six inches?”

“I’m short, okay. Don’t fucking mock me.”

She chuckled. “I really love the waistcoat and the bow tie too. Are the pants capris?”

You nodded.

“So the jacket, pants, waistcoat and shirt are all black, then the bowtie, shoes and clutch are dark green.”

“Forest green, actually, but yes, correct.”

“Honestly, I love it. It’s real classy. The green looks amazing against your skin tone. I only ever see you in jeans, but I’m sure you’re gonna rock this.”

You smiled warmly, thanking her before pulling her in for a hug. She really didn’t have to do any of this, yet her extra ass went out of her way to hire you a fucking escort that looked like he charged two thousand an hour or some shit. Honestly you didn’t know what you did to deserve such a great friend.

You looked at your watch. It was four thirty. An hour and a half. It was time to start getting prepared. “Honestly babe, this dude better have some magic, rainbow-sparkling, unicorn-horn type dick. He doesn’t look cheap, and with the effort I’m putting in I’ll go give a very scathing review if he doesn’t...deliver. Now get the fuck out. I gotta go shower my nerves off.”

You smiled as you literally dragged her out, since she was laughing so hard she could barely stand anymore.

…

You sat on the couch, your teeth clenched together to stop them from chattering as Alicia gathered your crochet braid twists on your head and tying them up into a bun on your head. After she was done you leaned forward, your legs spread apart, your elbows on your thighs as you hands hand loosely between your legs. You opted to let your coat hang over your shoulders as opposed to actually wearing it. You were so  _ nervous,  _ something you really didn’t understand because after tonight you probably would never see that extremely handsome man in your life.

“You honestly look like a female mob boss,” She said, standing in front of you. You lifted your head to look at her, smiling slightly. She had a very unique way of complimenting people.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang. You glanced at the clock on the wall: six o’clock on the dot. Well then, he was punctual, wasn’t he?

“Go answer the door. Tell me how the dicking goes,” Alicia said, quickly hugging you and bouncing off to her room, the door closing with a resounding click. You sighed, slightly flushed, before going to open the door. It was time.

You very nearly collapsed at the sight in front of you, because if you thought this dude was sexy on his profile, he was downright otherworldly in the flesh.

His suit alone probably cost your rent for about a year. It was a deep and rich blue, three piece and double breasted, and with it he had a worn a black shirt, and a sky blue, silk tie. His shoes were shined so perfectly that you were convinced that they were shining brighter than your future. You could tell that behind that suit was a man made of pure, unadulterated, lean muscle, and his cologne, a subtle and woody scent was seriously doing things to your nether regions.

“Tom Ford,” was all you could manage to breathe out, your brain so broken you had forgotten the most basic fundamentals of human interaction.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking at you. “Oud Wood, actually. I’m impressed you recognised it.” His voice was so smooth and so deep and so masculine that your brain just had to ask you if you thought that was how he was gonna shag you later on tonight. You swallowed thickly. “My name is Gabriel. You must be Kate. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he continued, running his hands up and down your body before taking your hand in his larger one and raising it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. You weren’t sure if you were still existing in this plane of existence anymore, let alone on earth.

Sheer self-control managed to get you to force your brain to become functional again. “Um, th-thank you. Yeah, my brother wears Tom Ford too. SOrry, I never properly introduced myself. My name is Kate,” you mumbled, taking a step out - uncharacteristically close to him and you clenched - and closing the door behind you. You looked up at him again, managing a small smile.

“Shall we leave?” you asked, and he chuckled, the sound low, warm and masculine and you literally had to constantly tell yourself to calm the fuck down when he offered you his arm, which you took and he eld you to the lifts.

“So, how’s the Europa league going?”

“Holy shit if you don’t shut the fuck up, Jesus Father Lawd help me,” you begun, having a feeling that you would enjoy this evening as you smiled at his joyous laughter.

…

Dinner was excellent, if you had to say so yourself. You really had an amazing conversation, ranging from football, to struggles of being bilingual, and your experiences thus far living in the country. He was very knowledgeable on many topics, and honestly it had been quite a while just speaking with someone about topics that you never spoke about much. Not that you never indulged in intellectual discussions with your friends, you did, and you all thoroughly enjoyed it, it’s just that with your friends it was much more fun to meme than to talk about whether breast cancer awareness month actually did raise awareness or it was a big marketing gimmick. (You both agreed that is was a big marketing gimmick.)

After he paid (you had been sure to dine lightly) he took you up to the room he’s booked, and you were slightly surprised to see one of your bags there. You opened it to find it had some casual wear for the next day and pyjamas.

You took a quick glance back to see if Gabriel could see you, and you quickly sent a text, asking Alicia if she had brought your stuff. She confirmed that she did, that Gabriel had sent his chauffeur back after he dropped you off (which explained why he stayed a moment to talk to him. You thought he was just telling him it was okay to leave as you were both spending the night) to get you some stuff for the night and for the next day, and that she’s the one that had packed the bag up for you. She was actually concerned that there was something missing or that there was something I didn’t necessarily want or need in there. You were relieved, and you assured her that you were fine.

You removed your shoes and your jacket, sighing blissfully when your feet, long suffering walking and standing in six inch heels were flat on the cool carpet. You walked back to your bag, and decided that maybe you had time to quickly change out of your clothes, when you heard the shower run. Well, at least you were covered on the time front.

You changed into your large sleeping shirt, removing your twists from the bun on your head and holding them into a much looser version, before scrambling on the bed, sitting cross-legged with your book,  _ Carcase for Hounds.  _ You didn’t know how long he was in the shower, as you were so engrossed in your reading, but when you heard the door to the bath open and he walked out, in nothing but his boxers and drying his hair, your throat promptly went dry.

The man was sculpted by adonis himself. He was nothing but pure muscle, lean and subtle, covered by smooth dark, skin. Everything about him was perfect, from his hair that you couldn’t see, being dried by his towel, down to his broad shoulders and muscular chest, his sculpted abdomen, thighs that looked like they should be eternally adored by Leonardo Da Vinci down to his feet. You had lived in this country for about three years and it was  _ now  _ when you were seeing men this beautiful actually existed?!

Honestly, you were extremely offended, and you needed a drink.

You had just gotten your drink of choice (a cold sprite. Bless hotel room catering) and you had just taken your first large gulp, because the thirst was real, in all senses of the word, when you heard him speak behind you.

“You’re one of my much more interesting clients, I’ll admit. Everyone else just wants a quick fuck, which is fair enough, but sex on it’s own gets boring after a while. Sometimes it’s interesting to talk to someone, actually talk to them about worldly things. I like how you don’t take shit from anyone and are willing to shut down my points with your own evidence. You’re witty, and intelligent, and quite frankly, that’s a very sexy trait for anyone to have.”

His voice washed over you like melted honey, and took a deep breathe, pressing the can against your lips and turning to face him.

“Thank you,” you said, raising the can to him as if to toast. “A toast.”

“He chuckled quietly as he approached you, his gait predatory. Would he fucking  _ stop  _ that. It wasn’t doing good for your current mental capabilities.

“So when I was in the shower, I couldn’t stop thinking how good it would feel to dominate you.”

His voice had dipped an octave, low, husky, rough, and you were very thankful you could lean on the wall behind you and pretend to be suave because you weren’t quite sure you could stand straight anymore.

“It would be a bit of effort on your end, I’m afraid,” you said, lying straight through your teeth. God you wanted him so bad you could do anything he’s ask of you. “All I’d do is sass you the whole time.” You finished your sprite and threw the can in the bin.

“Let’s see how true that is.”

You never had a chance.  He finally got to you, and without wasting any time, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his body with such force that you braced yourself with your hands on his chest. His other arm came up to your chin, tilting your head with his forefinger to look at him.

His smirk widened, slowly, deliberately, because he knew. Your body was betraying you. You wanted him to dominate you. You both knew it. You were just too difficult and hard-headed to admit it to him.

“D’you know how hot it is when you submit to me? When I make you submit to me? D’you know how sexy you’d be when you’re reduced to a whimpering, shivering pleasured little girl, clenching around my cock, milking me for my orgasm?” he murmured, his voice an octave lower, drawing his thumb across your jaw.

You looked away, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. You bit your lower lip, to keep your moan in your chest where it belonged. 

Gabriel lowered his mouth to your neck, placing a hot kiss on your pulse, before biting lightly, then sucking his way up to your jaw. He simultaneously ground his hips into yours, making you gasp at feeling the hot, hard bulge in his boxers. Despite your efforts, you moaned wantonly. Jesus Father Lawd this man.

You wrapped one of your hands around his neck, the other one moving to remove his boxers. You pulled them down on one side, then the other, hearing rather than seeing them drop to his ankles. His arms that was on your jaw dropped down too, to take your own panties off. You felt the muscles on one of his thighs flex, and you knew he was trying to step out his boxers. He pulled your shorts down with a lot less finesse than you did, before pulling one of your legs onto his waist. You glanced down, seeing him grab his cock and direct it to your opening, dripping wet and ready for him.

”Fuck,” he growled on your neck, panting slightly. “You’re already so wet for me, you filthy little slut. Haven’t you gotten any dick in a while?”

“Unlike you,” you gasped, willing yourself to land the jab before your mind completely fogged out with lust. “My genitals aren’t a public asset.”

He chuckled darkly, and your breath hitched in your throat. You’d definitely pay for that jab, which, naturally, was the entire point.

“I’ll have you begging to have this public asset in that pussy of yours in a moment,” he swore at you, making you grit your teeth to keep your whimper in. You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction that he aroused you when he talked to you like that.

Dropping his arms, he wrapped your other leg around his waist, holding you by your bum. His tip teased your entrance, coating it with the mixture of his precum and your fluids. You couldn’t help it, you whined, trying to shift your hips toward his own, desperate to have him inside you already.

He was, however, stronger than you, and he held you still. You raked your nails on his shoulder blades, no doubt leaving angry welts on his skin, growling at him.

“Beg for me,” he whispered in your ear, alternating between sucking your neck and your ear lobe. “Beg for my cock. Beg for me to fuck you like the filthy-ass whore you are.”

You wanted to, God knows you wanted to, but your pride could not let you. He pushed you into the wall, filling you with his head. You whimpered, his tip just stretching you, but that’s all you got. He pushed your shirt off, taking your nipple in his mouth, roughly sucking and tugging on it with his teeth, before rolling his tongue around it to sooth the slight sting.

You knew he was going to make you beg. You were sure he had the self-control to hold on until you fell apart in his arms. You had grossly miscalculated, forgetting that the combination of his restraint and his knowledge of the female body what pleasured you, would be enough to break you.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, before going back to your neck, to continue biting and suckling at the sensitive skin there. You gasped, swallowing, closing your eyes, trying to hold on.

“You know you want to take me. You know you’d love the feel of me stretching you, pounding those deliciously silky walls of yours.” he smirked in your neck, relishing in breaking you.

“Beg for me.”

Fuck pride. “Please! Please Gabriel. Please, just fu-“

He didn’t even give you the chance to finish your statement. He pushed in with a fast smooth thrust, stretching you to your limits already. That one stroke was so good, you barely managed a choke, unable to even have a decent control of your vocalisations. You weren’t ready, he never gave you a chance, pulling out slowly before roughly thrusting into you again. He set a rhythm, thrusting into you fast, rough, hard,  _ primal, _ your panting, bodies sweaty and sliding against each other. You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling the rippling muscle there, running one of your hands through his hair and pulling his head backwards, giving yourself a chance to kiss and bite and nick his neck, to mark him the way he marked you. He moaned, long, low and deep, before he swore, then snarled your name as he fucked you harder. Your thighs begun trembling, and you knew your body was about to give up on you soon, and you closed your eyes, white light blinding you as you let your orgasm engulf you. Gabriel never stopped, ruthlessly thrusting into you through your orgasm, very much intending to get to his own release after bringing you to yours.

Finally he growled again, a low, masculine, animalistic, sexy sound, as his hips bucked into yours roughly, jerking as he spilled his seed into you, letting himself go and allowing you both to experience his orgasm.

Finally he helped you down,, gently placing your legs on the floor as you both regulated your breathing, trying to get yourselves back in a semblance of order. You were still leaning against him, not wanting to let go, so he carried you into bed, and you passed out the second you hit it.

…

You felt yourself being shaken awake the next morning, you opened your eyes, staring blearily into a very handsome man’s face.

“Get up,  _ hermosa.  _ It’s time to check out. We need to leave soon. Go take a shower and I’ll drop you off.”

Oh yeah. Fuck.

Half an hour later found you outside the lobby, in jeans and one your brother’s t-shirts, squinting at the sun and still sore, eating an apple. Gabriel had hired you a taxi to take you home, and just as it came, he leaned down to your height and whispered in your ear. 

“You’re delectable. Next time you’re bored gimme a call. I wouldn’t mind fucking you again.”

You squeaked at that, utterly embarrassed  _ and  _ turned on at that, but before you could retort, he had already entered his car and he was gone. And you forgot to ask him about his facial regimen.

God fucking dammit.


End file.
